Beautiful, beautiful world

It might have been

I

I KNOW EXACTLY how many steps there are from my bed, to the door. I know exactly what color the door is, and I know that I will never see it again. It is that simple, really. 

In the first few months, it was downright awful to adjust to it all. I had to learn to live with the reality that I will never get my sight back. I will never see the bright, crazy colors that my walls are painted in, never see all my posters of various artists (Mostly The Zeebes), and I will never see myself again. I have an idea of what it all looks like, a memory of what it once was like, but it's only that; a memory.

My imagination has increased about 500 gazillion percent in the last fifteen months, at least compared to my pre-accident self, and that will have to do. Only it doesn't. It doesn't do the world justice. Heck, it doesn't even do me justice. I know how beautiful the world is, I've seen it with my own, healthy eyes. I've watched the bees in our garden build their beehive, in my favorite tree and I've watched them in annoyance and pain, as they stung me, when I got too close. I would always complain about them to my mother and she would turn into one of her explanatory moods, telling me to "Appreciate the bees and the nature, because without them, we'd be nothing" and going on and on about why the bees are so essential to the world. Thinking about it now, I wish I could go back and appreciate those bees.

My life has been colorless ever since.

        "Ally, mom says she wants you to come downstairs. Food's done" The sound is coming from the door and I immediately recognize it as Kyle's. My younger -annoyingly smart- brother.

        "Tell her I'm not hungry."

        "I told her you would say that and she said, that if you didn't come downstairs she would come get you, physically" I groan, Kyle leaves. It's always been like that. He's smarter than average kids his age and he knows how to deal with an 'Unstable teenager' like me apparently, according to my mom. I grab my cane and slowly get off the bed, letting my bare feet collide with the cold floor, flinching. I walk exactly six steps, before reaching the door and making my way further downstairs.

        "So, I heard from your mother, that you've been taking extra online classes. Does that have anything to do with the Braille books you got?" I hear him ask, when I sit at the table.

I can almost hear the smile in his voice. He's been doing that alot lately, my father. I don't answer him at first.

        "Allyson." My mother's stern voice breaks through the room, masking their clanking.

I haven't touched my food.

My mother's sitting right across from me, I can feel it, and I imagine her frown on her face. I imagine her looking at me worriedly, her eyes glancing back and forth between my father and I. She hasn't been in her explanatory moods, for a long time now. I suspect it has something to do with me (My suspicions are probably right)

        "No."

        "Well, Mr. Sterling told me that you've done a lot of improvement on reading Braille. You're almost faster than us these days" He laughs and I imagine the crinkles by his eyes, when he smiles, his bright, blue eyes shining with happiness.

Not anymore, I think.They're not happy anymore, because of me. Because I'm blind.

        "I'm not. He only told you that, because I told him to. I'm not hungry" I push the plate, that I haven't even touched, away from me and leave the room.

Later that night I lie awake, imagining myself on the beach. I'm wearing my favorite turquoise bathing suit, with polka dots all over and mermaid straps.The wind is making my hair fly in every direction and the waves are rolling in. I feel the sand between my toes and I wiggle them further in, relaxing. The ocean is bright blue and every single color is burning vividly.

I am as perfect a version of myself as I'll ever be. I am one, in both mind and soul. I am a part of the universe, then I'm not. I'm like a grain of salt in water, then I'm like an elephant between ants. I am plain and unique all at once. I can be what and where I want to be. It's magical, diverse and all the other amazing things in the universe, all at once, then it isn't.

But I am not there. I cannot see the bright blue ocean, or the vivid colors all around me. I'm not a part of anything. The grain of salt won't even do.

I'm stuck in my room, in my darkness, in this body, wondering what it could've been like.

For as John Whittier said,

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'it might have been'"

***

I hope you enjoyed it so far, please tell me what you think in the comments. I've contacted an author and so on, and this book may be published in real life.

That's why I need you to be as critical as possible, please. Thank you very much, for reading and understanding.

Love,

Malak xx ♥